Misadventures of Sherlock Holmes
by Seriafina
Summary: And his companions. This contains some fun shorts, any genres, starting with "Something Noisy Comes This Way". Sherlock/Molly/John. Each story might contain different ratings.
1. Something Noisy Comes This Way : 1

**Something Noisy Comes This Way**

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**Genre: **Horror, Mystery

**Rating:** T for violence and some disturbing material

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**Part One**

Molly was sitting in the lab of St. Bartholomew's, examining some cell cultures under the microscope. Sherlock was sitting nearby running some chalk analysis for a recent case, his eyes darting back and forth between the scope and the computer. John however, wasn't as busy. The former army doctor had a late night and retired in a sitting position, casting a few snores in the otherwise quiet lab.

Molly sighed, scribbling down notes in her report and then got up to put away her culture. Sherlock gave her a quick glance and then settled to throw a rubber ball he had kept at John. The ball hit him in the head, waking him in a startle.

"Ahsf-what!" John blinked rapidly and glared at Sherlock, picking up the rubber ball and squeezing it in his hand. "I'm not doing anything. You could let me get a wink in, you know?"

"I'm almost done," Sherlock replied.

John yawned. "Found it, then?"

"Yes."

John nodded and then looked to Molly. "When are you off, Molly?"

She gave a grin. "I'm already off."

He arched a brow. "Then…why are you still here?"

"I have a few reports that I need to finish," she answered, tapping a stack of papers on the desk. "It'll take me till midnight to finish them."

John gawked. "Will you be okay?"

She nodded and smiled again. "This isn't the first time, it's not hard. It's just a long process."

"Do you need help?" he asked, already offering his services.

Sherlock snorted, thinking how chivalrous Mr Watson wanted to be when it concerned a woman.

"No, I'm fine. Go home, John – the case has finally come to an end. I'm sure you're tired and need rest."

John nodded, getting up and stretching his arms up. "Call us if you need anything."

Sherlock pulled on his coat and tied his navy scarf around his neck. Just as he went to put on his gloves there was noise – very faint. No one heard it except for Sherlock. "What was that?" he asked.

Both John and Molly looked at him confused. "I'm just saying if she needs help, we'll be happy to offer it," John explained, confused.

"No, not that. That noise, didn't you hear it?" He pointed around the room, trying to pinpoint where it had come from.

"What noise? I didn't hear anything," said John.

Molly frowned. "Is it that rumbling kind of noise that a dishwasher makes?"

Sherlock nodded briefly. "Something of that sort. What is it?"

She chuckled, throwing her hands up. "Oh, I don't know. I've been hearing it for a week now. Sometimes I hear in the morgue, sometimes in the cafeteria. But here in the lab, it's usually fainter. I asked Doctor Philips about it but he said it was just technical work that needed to be done in the vents or something like that."

Sherlock's eyes darted to the ventilation system in the lab. "What possible kind of work needs to be done in a vent that sounds like a dishwasher? Building owners hardly dare to care about the cleanliness of their vents – it's not what you see in films. Vents are dusty, dirty, and dangerous." He smiled. "Should we have a look?"

John groaned. "Come on, it's hardly anything. Can we just go home?"

Sherlock slipped on his black leather gloves, covering his long pale fingers. "It's not a normal noise, John."

"I'm tired."

"Five seconds ago, you were willing to stay another four hours to help Mrs Hooper with her reports and you won't help me examine this…noise?"

Before John could respond, the noise filtered the lab again, this time a bit louder. It was rattling, like a shopping cart rolling over concrete.

"Okay, is _that_ the noise?" John pointed upwards, standing still as a chill ran up his spine. There was something very odd about that noise, indeed, he thought.

Molly swallowed. "Bit louder this time, yeah?" She walked over towards the left wall and lifted her chin, trying to see into the vent. She didn't think anything would be in there but she still wanted to confirm. Sherlock and John soon joined her and the three of them stared into the dark square tunnel that ran through the entire building.

Silence fell upon them, nothing but the sound of their heartbeats was heard. And then, very faintly, like the sound of a clean sheet waving in the wind, laboured breathing joined them through the vents.

Carefully, Molly looked at John, and then at Sherlock. No one believed that the sound was actual breathing, it was impossible.

"Is someone stuck in there?" Molly whispered, breaking the silence.

"For a week?" Sherlock asked dubiously. "I highly doubt it's a person. It must be something else."

"But it's breathing," John whispered, casting Sherlock a look from the corner of his eyes. "Animal?"

"In a hospital? In a vent?" Sherlock scoffed. "That's more unbelievable than a person."

John looked back into the dark vent, trying to see past the blinds. All of them were conscious of their voices. Afraid of being too loud. All but Sherlock.

"Hello?!" he yelled.

Molly and John went rigid as Sherlock yelled into the vent one more time. Then, they stood quietly waiting for some sort of response. Nothing.

"I think you scared it away," Molly whispered.

"It's not an 'it'," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "There is reasonable explanation to this. First, however, we'll have to talk to Doctor Philips; he seems to know what's going on these vents. Most likely he's hiding something."

"B-but what would he be hiding?" Molly asked.

John let out a sigh, rubbing his head. "Does this mean we have a new case? Mystery of the noisy vents?"

"Dull name, John," Sherlock muttered. " He could hide anything, Molly. Matainence for the vents? A horribly dull lie and you know it." He turned around and reached for his cell. "Call doc-"

Before Sherlock had the chance to get out his words, a roar penetrated the silence – rattling loud, the sound almost guttural like a beast.

Molly stood still, just as John. Both of them tense, scared, and frightened at the sound they just heard. Questioning its origin – its humanity.

"_Ooooh,_" Sherlock sang after the noise faded away into stillness, his eyes wide and filled with carnal curiosity – all sleeping thoughts vanishing from the corners of his mind. He was alert, ready.

"Yes, I believe we have a case, John." Sherlock turned to him. "Whatever can it be?"

"It's not a beast," Molly whispered, trying to stay calm by rubbing her arm vigorously. "It can't be. This is a hospital."

"Exactly, so what is it?" Sherlock asked, lifting his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Another case of hallucinatory gas? This time, messing with our sense of hearing?" He pointed to his ears. Sherlock began to think, pacing slowly.

"I really-"

Another ratting, deep, roar sounded in the lab, this time coming from the opposite side.

The sound had moved.


	2. Something Noisy Comes This Way : 2

**Something Noisy Comes This Way**

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**Genre: **Horror, Mystery

**Rating:** M for violence and some disturbing material

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**Part Two**

"The sound moved," John whispered. Both he and Molly were now standing close together. John wasn't nearly as scared as Molly was but wasn't as calm as Sherlock.

"Thank you for that award-winning deduction, John," Sherlock said, walking to the other end of the lab and putting a flat hand against the wall. "Whatever it is, it's moving…or we're hallucinating."

"So there's something inside the vents?" John asked. "Or…inside our heads?" A general look of confusion passed through his face and he scratched his head.

"What?" Molly squeaked. "Is this what you guys normally do? Get drugged up and see or hear things and solve cases?" She gave a grin, only because it helped her ease the massive amount of tension that was swarming through her.

The noise scurried again, sending another wave of chills up John and Molly's spines while only entertaining Sherlock in the process.

"Follow it!" Sherlock turned on his ears and began to monitor the clacking noise.

"You're not…serious, are you?" John asked, moving forward but also trying to stay still.

"It's probably nothing," Molly added.

"Come." Sherlock ushered them as he slowly pressed his ear to the wall. The room was silent yet again until the snarling noise rang aloud in the lab, this time outside, in the hall. Sherlock stepped out, chasing after it. John and Molly passed each other a glance and then followed the leader. They crept down the hall and followed the clicking and the clacking, the moaning and the growling inhuman voice down to the morgue.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Molly whispered. The fact that they were chasing an unknown 'voice' into a morgue filled with cadavers wasn't exactly anyone's idea of fun. "I think we should just go back." She pointed her thumb over her shoulder.

"Don't be scared, Molly," Sherlock encouraged. "It's not like there's actually a beast living inside the hospital vents. Everything has a reasonable explanation to it." They stepped in and look around, waiting for it to speak up again.

Then there was growl.

The three of them turned their heads slowly, confused by the clarity of the voice. Behind a door where they kept their dry cleaning supplies, there was a shadow standing still. The hairs on Molly's arm stood straight. John was lost for words and Sherlock was processing the information at ferocious speeds.

The doorknob turned and they stood still, watching as it clicked and swung open slowly, as if time had immensely slowed down. The person behind the door stepped into the light. However, it wasn't a person at all; it was a young boy, no older than twelve at most. He had no hair; he was bald with full black eyes and no eyebrows. Naked. He was lanky and extremely thin that his ribs were showing through his tight translucent skin which was covered in what seemed to be dirt. His mouth hung open awkwardly and his tongue looked dry and flaky as if there was fungus growing on it.

Sherlock studied him and he studied them. For a moment, which was no longer than a couple seconds at most, there was peace in observation.

"What happened to you? Are you sick? Are you lost?" Molly asked him sweetly. "Where are your parents? What are you…doing down here?" It hadn't occurred to her that this boy was probably the one scurrying around the vents. She thought he was a lost patient, running naked around the hospital. She had seen worse. Based on the state of his knees and elbows, his eyes which were having difficulty adjusting to the light, Sherlock deduced this boy had been here for a long time perhaps. But was he really a boy?

His question was soon answered when the boy crouched over, dropping on all fours like an animal. He snarled. His voice was similar to clanking wheels of a shopping cart, inhuman and beastly.

John swallowed and they all moved back. "I don't think he's lost," John muttered.

"Oh, my god." Molly stood stiff.

The boy snapped, showing a row of shark-like teeth.

"Get back!" Sherlock shouted.

"RUN!" John turned around and dashed out of the morgue. Sherlock wanted to restrain it but the beastly child charged forward viciously and unafraid. Not wanting to hurt the child, he decided best to get out of its path.

Molly, however, was too stunned to move. As the boy ran on all fours, approaching her, she forgot how to do everything but be scared. Sherlock turned around, going back to grab her arm but he was a fraction of a second too late. The boy clamped his jaw around Molly's leg, biting into her flesh. She let out a horrid scream and tried to pull her leg away, the pain causing her brain to have an epiphany and she remembered what legs were supposed to do. Sherlock pulled hard, and the boy ripped away his hold, blood staining his cannibalistic teeth.

Sherlock helped Molly out of the morgue and then locked the door before the little creature got out. They were all lost for words, silent and afraid of what they had just witnessed. Sherlock, amazed, peered through the door's window and watched as the boy stared directly at him, a feral gaze haunting his expression. He then turned around, sprinted back into the room, closed the door and disappeared – probably back into the vents.

"This is bad," Sherlock stated, turning around and facing Molly and John. The doctor was crouched over and inspecting Molly's wound.

"You think this is bad? It's ridiculous! What in the world just happened Sherlock?!"

"Mentally disturbed young patient, I believe."

John shook his head, rolling up Molly's pant leg, exposing her skin which was dripping with blood. Sherlock looked at it and then opened the morgue door.

"Sherlock, what are you doing? You can't go back in there!" Molly hissed.

"Relax, Molly. The boy's probably gone on an adventure in the vents again." He rustled through the morgue and emerged with a few bandages and alcohol wipes. He handed them to John who quickly ripped open the packages.

"Will you clean her leg while I get this?" John muttered, unrolling the fabric.

Molly went to grab the swabs. "I can do it."

Sherlock snatched them before she could. "Allow me and sit still." He crouched over and examined the bite around her upper thigh. She hissed when he first made contact. "Shush." He rolled the loose pant leg up more to get a better look and then began to clean away the blood, revealing a perfect imprint of the boy's teeth. They were sharp, like the bite of a carnivorous creature – a lion, tiger, or a cat. Not human at all. What was he?

Molly swallowed and let out a deep breath. "We need to call Lestrade."

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary," Sherlock muttered, only half serious.

"Are you kidding me?" John scowled. "We have a threat – in a _hospital_. Of course we need to call Lestrade – maybe even a squadron considering this…boy…can just crawl around in the ventilation system and pop out and hurt anyone. He can hurt patients, Sherlock. Did you forget that?"

Sherlock cocked his head in confusion for a split second. "Of course I didn't forget. I just don't like Lestrade."

"God forbid we call someone you don't like. That's almost everyone." Sherlock smiled. John rolled his eyes, wondering how the man could muster up that cheeky smile in this circumstance. "Molly, please call Lestrade," he sighed.

She nodded quickly and took out her cell phone from her coat pocket. John lifted her thigh and then began bandaging it up, watching blood stain the white surface of the fabric.

"What's the plan, Sherlock? What do we do?" John put down Molly's leg and turned to him.

Sherlock stared at him as his mind processed the possible scenarios. With a wild animal on the loose in a populated hospital, it would be wise to alert everyone and make sure the right precautions were taken until they could catch the noisy thing.

"Do you know how poachers catch tigers, John?" Sherlock asked with a hint of a smile on his lips.

John narrowed his eyes. "They kill it?" he replied timidly. He suddenly went ridged, a wrinkle of realization forming on his forehead. "We're not going to kill that child, Sherlock."

Sherlock gave a hurt look. "I would never destroy something so valuable to science, John." He then reached over and snatched the phone from Molly's ear and held it to his own. "Hello? Lestrade."

Lestrade's voice rang through the other end. "Sherlock! What's going on?"

"I need you to bring me some meat. Oh, and a tranquilizer gun, please."


End file.
